


Dragon the St. Bernard

by Guessimaclotpole



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Arthur Pendragon Returns, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Dogs, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guessimaclotpole/pseuds/Guessimaclotpole
Summary: He had lived year after year, century after century, just waiting for the smallest signal of Arthur’s return. There had been times of violence, pestilence and of war and Merlin had been sure then, that if his King was going to return; he’d have done so by now.There had been no sign of Arthur. And so, Merlin stopped believing.-Merlin has despairingly waited for Arthur for centuries. Towards the end of his life, he makes an unlikely companion in the form of a canine friend.





	Dragon the St. Bernard

**Author's Note:**

> As always, [Caledonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia), I owe you everything.
> 
>  
> 
> Please note that there is Major Character Death in this, but it is NOT gut wrenching and heartbreaking and awful.

_' Thank you.'_

The words Merlin couldn’t bare to hear anymore. The words he didn’t dare utter himself. The words that took him back to the smell of fire, of water and blood. The last words he heard before Arthur had left. His King.

His Friend.

He had lived year after year, century after century, just waiting for the smallest signal of Arthur’s return. There had been times of violence, pestilence and of war and Merlin had been sure then, that if his King was going to return; he’d have done so by now.

World War II brought the bombing of Avalon Tower, and no less than 50 years later the lake had been drained. He had led protests and used what was left of his dying magic to try and stop it, but modern machinery  _ couldn’t _ be stopped. They had found Excalibur, who was now encased in a Museum in London somewhere – but there had been no sign of life or of magic.

There had been no sign of Arthur. And so, Merlin stopped believing.

He wasn’t able to see the point in carrying on, and he never had anyone any more. He slept through the days and he left his job as a History Teacher. It took a few years of living with no one and nothing but his own crippling thoughts to keep him company before he started to age; and if ever there was anything that could have confirmed that the King was not to return, then that was it.

His joints became rigid, and he always ached. His hair began to thin out, with wiry strips of silver amongst the mess of black. His skin became loose, and his once dark irises began to fade.

He was just waiting to die. His magic would leave him and he could become one with earth and universe beyond; and it was with this in mind, that he decided to take one final walk one summer’s night to clear his head.

He had strolled through Avalon park, because even though he knew his King was not to return, he couldn’t bare to leave. His bones clicked and crunched as he walked and his lungs were constricted in his chest.

He cursed the magics of the earth as he took a puff of his inhaler and rested a weary hand on the back of a park bench.

_ ‘Here lay the historic Lake of Avalon, deathplace of the Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon.’ _

Merlin snorted, the sound loud and unwelcome in the quiet night air. He remembered when nights were  _ truly _ quiet. When there were no cars, no vehicles, no noise pollution from bars and shops and nightclubs.

He told himself that it should have been easier for him, to live through all of those years and to accept all of those changes, but he could not. He had been set in his ways back in the days of magic and knights, and the only thing that hadn’t changed was the evil in the world. The hatred, the wars, the betrayal.

“Please,” he begged, crouching down on the ground and threading his fingers into the grass and the dirt. “Please. I can’t be the only one left, just take me, please.”

He knew he was ridiculous for hoping. He knew the Sidhe were long gone, and that any magic that might have remained in Avalon had been abolished along with the lake.

He shook his head and sighed, disgusted in himself for even bothering to hope, when a high-pitched welp sounded from a nearby hedge.

He raised his hand in front of him, though he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to summon any defensive magic, and he rushed to the shrubbery; prepared to take down whatever lay beyond.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a wounded dog.

 

-/-

 

“I must admit, Mr Emrys, I’ve never seen one like him before.” The vet ran his fingers through the dog’s long fur. “The colouring is highly unusual, but I have no reason to suspect that he is a mixed breed. This patch here,” The vet then indicated to the dark golden fur that covered half of the dog’s body and face. “I have seen brown and red, but never golden. He’s a very unique dog, I’m surprised you managed to carry him here.”

Merlin looked at the animal once more. He had resented staying at the surgery for the vet to remove the small BB bullet lodged below the dog’s rib, but it wasn’t like he had much better to do.

“What did you say he was again?” asked Merlin. The dog was very large, very fluffy, and had one of those daft, droopy faces that no doubt slavered everywhere best part of the time. The thought made Merlin’s nose wrinkle.

“He’s a St. Bernard. He seems to be mostly fully grown and by certain aspects of his health, I’d assume he is about 4 years old. The problem is, however, that he isn’t chipped. He also doesn’t appear to be well looked after.”

“So, what will you do? Sell him?” Merlin asked, his eyes drawn to the rise and fall of the dog’s chest below it’s bandages. It’d no doubt wake up soon.

“That’s not quite how it works, Mr Emrys. If nobody claims him in the next seven days, he will be put down. He isn’t as healthy as he should be, nowhere close actually, and he needs full time care and loving. Part of me believes this dog has had a lot of struggles through life, and that he needs lot of nurturing and attention to bring him around. He’s gentle enough but unfortunately, due to his apparent lack of obedience, I can’t let him go to a family with children, and I’d have to give a full disclosure on his health and personality. The chances of someone taking him are very slim, I’m afraid.”

 

-/-

 

“Don’t look at me like that.” A pair of big blue eyes looked up at Merlin from the sofa, and Merlin snorted when the dog rolled on his back and fluttered his eyelashes.

“I’m not rubbing your belly again, I’ve just done it for forty minutes!” Merlin snapped. It had been six days since he’d taken the dog to the veterinarian, and it had been six days since he had stupidly agreed to take the damn thing home.

The dog made a half-whine, half-groan noise that made the sofa vibrate and Merlin shook his head.

“Absolutely not. This is my house and you will follow my rules. I am  _ not _ tickling your belly no matter how much you flaunt it in my face.”

He tried to fix his eyes back on the television set, watching some rubbish about a group of stupid, Irish priests. He didn’t miss the way the dog wriggled further up the couch before rubbing its dribbling mouth all over Merlin’s hand.

“Oh for goodness sake! That’s absolutely disgusting, you total dollophead!” Merlin complained, but his smile betrayed him as his hand found its way to the warm fur on the dog’s stomach.

 

-/-

 

“Dragon,” stated Merlin.

The dog looked up at him with defiance, and took another swoop at his empty bowl with his paw.

“Yes, that’s what I’m calling you. You aren’t getting anymore food, Dragon, you’ll get  _ fat;  _ you’re already on the chunky side!” Merlin stood in the kitchen doorway, hands on his hips, as Dragon actually  _ scoffed _ and then kicked his bowl towards Merlin’s feet.

Merlin picked up the bowl and put it out of reach on the countertop, turning back to Dragon and giving shooting him a smirk.

“You eat when I say,  _ Dragon;  _ not whenever you please. Which is apparently  _ all the damn time. _ ” 

Dragon then barked, his floppy ears waving with the motion, and then he simpered into the living room and buried his face in his paws. Merlin looked at him curiously before opening the cupboard and taking out a Jumbone. 

“For goodness sake, here!” Merlin grumbled as he tossed the treat at Dragon and he jumped into the air, catching it in his mouth in a smooth, practiced motion.

“Definitely a damn dragon with that attitude.” Merlin groaned, and he swore he heard the bloody dog laughing at him. 

 

-/-

 

During their first year together, Merlin finally built the confidence to leave the house during the day. He only ever left to walk Dragon, occasionally stopping by at the butchers for a fresh cut of meat, but during this time he was able to smile and nod at the friendly people in the park, and to exchange the odd few words with his neighbours. 

Dragon also seemed to be enjoying the attention both from Merlin and those that he spoke to. He was quite a pompous dog, really, if a dog could be pompous that was. He was obnoxious, greedy, proud and somehow he was both energetic and lazy at the same time. He didn’t listen to a word Merlin said, and Merlin (though he’d never admit it) was a complete pushover for his giant pup.

 

-/-

 

In their second year together, Merlin became fast aware that though he was physically aging at the same pace as a human; his magic, his mentality and his soul were aging faster. He tried his best not to let it trouble him, and instead focused on the new relationships he was building with his neighbours.

It took him some time to learn that two doors down, a gentleman by the name of Oliver was a descendant of none other than Guinevere. He was, in some ways, Merlin’s last connection to what once was-and so Merlin built a relationship with Oliver, his Wife, Daisy, and their two daughters.

Just as Merlin grew fond of the family, so did Dragon.

 

-/-

 

During their third year together, Merlin funnelled the very last essence of his magic into the protection of both Dragon, and Oliver’s family. He had no need for his magic anymore, and was assigned a care worker to help him with his day-to-day tasks.

One day, he’d have thought it all as incredibly degrading; but after centuries of being unhappy, Merlin was tired of the hatred, the resentfulness, the pain. Dragon, though only a dog, had taught Merlin that there was more to life than just the wait.

He had, at this point, accepted that his destiny had been wrongly foretold, as had Arthur’s.

So he openly welcomed the care and the company, and all the while, his faithful dragon stayed by his side.

 

-/-

 

Towards the end of their fourth year together, Merlin was admitted to a hospice where he was hooked onto a machine that was keeping him alive. Oliver brought the kids in to see him one last time, where he told them stories of beasts, sorcerers, Kings and quests; and when Oliver took them away to stay with a relative, Merlin sobbed into Daisy’s arms. 

When Oliver returned he brought with him a mirror, as per Merlin’s request. There had been some disagreement with the staff, but much to Merlin’s amazement, Dragon was also allowed to stay by his friend’s side once more. 

Merlin looked at himself long and hard in the mirror, his still-middle aged face betraying his true age. His hair lay in part-black, part-grey waves that curled past his ears, and his face was rough and unshaven. A man. Not like Arthur had ever seen him.

Merlin wasn’t the type to believe in heaven or reincarnation, but a part of him deep down hoped and prayed that after he passed, surrounded by a loving family, that he would meet Arthur once more. His King, his friend, his love. 

They lit some candles, and put on some old folk music that Merlin knew the words to. They sat by his bed, and they talked and joked, and then they were quiet, just existing. Without his magic, the medication was stronger and he felt very little pain when the time came.

In fact, he was certain that Dragon had known the time had come before all of them, for he shuffled to the top of the bed and lay directly across Merlin’s torso, his head buried in Merlin’s neck.

“Oh, Dragon,” Merlin said through his tears, and he wrapped his arms around the dog, feeling his own magic pulsing underneath that fur. “I never thought I’d love again, Dragon. Thank you.”

And just before Merlin closed his eyes one final time, Dragon lifted his head and in the dogs eyes, Merlin had seen something he hadn’t noticed before.

Those blue eyes should not have belonged to a dog. They  _ didn’t  _ belong to a dog.

And then, when those blue eyes flashed yellow, Merlin saw it all in his head. Saw it all through Dragon’s eyes.

“ _ Arthur. _ ” he whispered and the last thing he felt were tears on his face, and a whine in his ear. 

And he was gone.

 

-/-

 

This time, Merlin didn’t have to wait. It was funny that way, after you died. Time wasn’t really anything, and nothing was very relative.

He just new that he had died, and then some time after, he was greeted by a shout from somewhere in the light that surrounded the King’s chambers.

“ _ Mer _ lin!” 

Merlin rose to his feet from where he’d been sat on the edge of the bed, his modern day clothes a sharp contrast to the centuries old surroundings.

And when Arthur entered the room, his very person glowing from the inside, Merlin sprung across the room and into his arms.

“Arthur.” he whispered, tearfully, into his King’s shoulder, and Arthur delicately kissed Merlin’s hair.

“I think I’d prefer Dragon from now on, actually.” He replied, shakily.

 

-/-

 

Life was strange in many ways, and death even moreso; but neither Merlin nor Arthur cared. They had been each other’s other for as long as they had both lived, and they continued on as one being in death, until their next adventure should arrive.

 


End file.
